War and Peace
by Ksenia Kenobi
Summary: Sif is sent to Midgard by Odin to guard Loki during his rehabilitation in... Russia. Who knows how bears, vodka and Siberian severe climate will influence their complicated relationship. Loki/Sif, plus Clint/Natasha, Thor/Jane; post-Avengers, AU Thor 2
1. Chapter 1: Bears

REWRITTEN!

Chapter 1: Bears

Nick Fury hardly ever drove. Not that he didn't know how to do it. It was just beyond his duties. After all, he was the director of S.H.I.E.L.D and that gave you the opportunity to relax (as if he could) in the back seat while some Agent Hill or Coulson or both of them would be breaking all the traffic rules to reach the destination as fast as possible. To tell you the truth, it was always Hill who tended to run the car into everything that got in her way and Coulson always sat beside her, face set, lips forming a hard line, doing his best not to throw up the Chinese take-away. He could easily yell at her to drive like a normal person but he wouldn't be Coulson if he did. Phil Coulson was patient, so patient that it often annoyed him and other people.  
Today things were different. Agent Hill had been ordered to stay in the helicarrier and Agent Coulson...  
And Agent Coulson was dead. He was dead because some alien maniac (Asgardian God of Lies and Mischief, to be exact) had popped up from hell knows where with a firm decision to enslave the whole world and kill the ones who refused to be enslaved. This very God didn't hesitate to bring an army with him - a bunch of very unfriendly alien lizards who had nearly destroyed the distressful New York City. Fury almost thought it was time to take Corvalolum. Loki had really made him very desperate. So desperate that he didn't want to admit it. And Phil, dear patient, diligent, patriotic Phil, with his collection of vintage cards... Where are you now, dear Phil?  
Ironically, the said perpetrator of this madness was occupying the back seat of the car while the director was driving at the highest speed the car could allow and refusing to notice other vehicles on the road. Angry drivers and their honking horns only encouraged him to drive faster. He didn't like this place in the middle of Russian nowhere and wanted this nightmare to end as soon as possible. He was stupid to think that the alien invasion had come to an end because it hadn't. Not really. It had been only the beginning of the End.  
Lady Sif was sitting next to the infamous director with a mortal map on her lap. She was wearing blue skinny jeans, leather boots and a white parka with ridiculous inscriptions on it. Her silver eyes were hidden beneath mortal sunglasses and her black silky hair was in a perfectly made pony-tail. Nick Fury had insisted on this masquerade to avoid curious looks and paparazzi. He had also insisted on a haircut but Sif had refused; she had bad memories associated with it. Besides, the outfit was worse than ever without any haircuts. It was too light to her liking; she felt exposed and vulnerable in it. Her armour back in Asgard was far more comfortable.

* * *

About 24 hours earlier

She found herself in a deserted place and almost thought that Heimdall had got her wrong and sent her to Jotunheim. The weather was too frosty. But it wasn't long before she realized her mistake. She spotted strange metal objects in the distance. Birds? No. Flying machines which transport mortals to different parts of Midgard. Airplanes or something. She couldn't exactly remember how Thor had called them.  
The man with an eye-patch, the one with whom Odin had negotiated several hours prior, was approaching her. Sif turned to greet him. They exchanged pleasantries and shook hands.  
"They'll be arriving soon", he told her. Then he started talking about the conditions of the peace treaty which had been signed between Midgard and Asgard. Sif already knew a few points of it. The trickster was to spend a month in the realm he'd tried to conquer, living among the people he'd tried to hurt earlier. Gladly, Loki wouldn't be able to to stick his tricky thumbs into his magic and stuff like that since he'd be wearing a special tiny bracelet. It was designed by S.H.I.E.L.D., had Odin's magic in it and even Tony Stark had a hand in this creation. This thing would prevent him from doing silly things like conquering Midgard for the second time. So if he tried to at least to make three small steps in the wrong way, he'd be tazered. Darcy Lewis's idea. Speaking of Darcy Lewis, she was getting at every Thor and Jane Foster's nerve at the moment since the God of Thunder was on a holiday in New Mexico. That was why Odin had sent Sif instead of Thor to guard Loki during his rehabilitation in Midgard. Sure thing, the trickster had the bracelet on and he'd be under the watchful eye of two assassins, Daughter of Romanov and Son of Barton. But they also needed someone who'd dealt with Loki before and Thor was out of question. So it left Sif to do all the job.  
Sif wasn't pleased with it but she didn't argue. She had respect for Odin.  
"You look disgusting today, Milady" Loki informed her with a mocking smirk as soon as had his mask taken off. Surprisingly, he was telling the truth. Well, maybe a woman wearing such clothes would look absolutely fine in Midgard. But not in Asgard. It was inappropriate for women to wear such tight clothes. Needless to say, women were not supposed to wear pants in general! It was either a long skirt or a dress. Pants were for warriors.  
Sif smirked at the thought.  
"We've not asked for your opinion on the matter", Nick said darkly. He gestured to Sif, wordlessly inviting her to follow him. She obliged and soon found herself in front a huge grey building. Fury led the small group through through magically opening gates inside the building. They wandered through the endless maze of corridors and soon Sif gave up memorizing the way. There was no way she was getting out of here before Thor's arrival.  
"Where exactly are you taking him?" she asked Fury, glancing at Loki. Four mortal security guards with weapons she'd never seen before (and was eager to try out) were eyeing him suspiciously. She couldn't blame them. Loki had caused such problems to their realm and killed so many innocent people. They'd never recover from it. At least, she doubted it.  
"To Siberia. He'll be staying at Agent Romanov's country house together with you and Agent Barton", he straightened up, watching another one black car pull up. "Well, it was nice to meet you, Moscow"  
Aha. So it wasn't New Mexico she'd once visited together with Warrior Three in order to get Thor back. And it wasn't the Midgardian city Loki had almost destroyed some time before.  
And they were going to the gods forsaken place in the wild pine forests.

* * *

"Tell me how far we're from the destination" Nick said, not looking at her. Sif narrowed her eyes. She didn't like his ordering tone. Had he forgot whom he was talking to? Nevertheless, she lowered her gaze to the map and did her best to understand the meanings of it. Fury's fast driving was only making it worse to concentrate. She felt her stomach rolling and swallowed, not showing his discomfort. 24 hours of continuous driving through the snowy woods affected her badly and she was much more hardy.  
"Well?" Hick raised an eyebrow.  
"I'm afraid your maps are beyond my understanding", Sif said coldly, feeling unwell. She put the damn map away and stared at the road. She felt better... A bit.  
"Thirty miles left" a voice she knew all too well said from behind. Fury frowned and Sif huffed. After his comment about her appearance Loki had stayed silent for all the 24 hours and it unnerved her. What to say, everything related to Loki had always unnerved her. She never knew what to expect from him and preferred to avoid him.  
"Fine, let's believe it", Fury snapped and sped up. Sif could almost feel Loki smiling.  
"Agent Barton once claimed that bears would eat him here", Loki commented, "Poor lad. Always believing in stereotypes"  
Fury snarled.  
"You don't know what you're talking about. Agent Barton is a professional assassin and he'd never believe in such a thing"  
Loki laughed.  
"But he strongly believed in Russian fairy tales that your Black Widow whispered in his ear. Later he even wanted to kill her for making fun out of him. I wish he did it"  
Fury tensed and inhaled sharply, keeping silent. Sif was peeking at the director from beneath her lashes. She was hardly aware of what they were talking about but it was obvious that Loki was mocking Fury in a very bad way. Then she remembered that this Son of Barton had been one of Loki's victims and had his mind controlled by the trickster. And Black Widow was some sort of a female warrior among those Avengers and she had a soft spot for this Barton... Sif wasn't sure.  
Loki fell silent and Fury snorted, watching the road ahead of him. Sif decided to do the same and fixed her gaze on pine trees rushing by. Bears here? Great. Would be such fun.

* * *

A/N: I'm sorry for mistakes if there are any. English isn't my native language, I'm Russian.


	2. Chapter 2: Low temperatures

**REWRITTEN!**

Chapter 2: Low temperatures

* * *

If Natasha Romanov was honest with herself she'd admit that she couldn't stand winters in Siberia. And if she was even more honest with herself she'd say that all the seasons were horrible.

Spring was short and late. It usually started in the middle of April (sometimes in May) and lasted for two weeks only. Snow melted in an instant.

Summer was rainy. So very, very rainy. Actually, it was dry in June but due to the low atmospheric pressure it rained during July and August.

Fall was very short, just like spring.

Winter lasted for five (sometimes seven) months. The weather was dry and frosty. The temperatures were extremely low; it was often minus forty degrees Celsius. Snowfalls were rare because of the small amount of precipitation.

Not so many people were able to stay here for a long time, especially in winter and without warm clothing. And of course, not so many people were into spending their winter holidays in freezing Siberia.

That was why a couple of professional assassins had made a firm decision to abandon the noisy New York City (which, by the way, was still recovering from the latest attempts to be conquered) and spend a few weeks here because they'd be unlikely to be found and bothered.

Or they had hoped so.

Natasha was shivering; she quickly took off her black gloves, fished a tiny key out of her pocket and inserted it into the lock of the gate. The system was old-fashioned just as the lock itself. Natasha didn't mind; after years picking locks it felt strange, but fine. The rusty gates creaked open and Natasha hurried inside the house.

It was the first of February and Clint Barton was freezing to death. He was sitting by the fireplace, wearing three woolen pullovers and a jacket. Unfortunately, all these couldn't keep his teeth from clattering loudly. He had three piles of Russian newspapers on his lap and he had been pretending to read them all morning, although he could hardly understand a word in the unfamiliar language.

"They say it's gonna be minus eighty tomorrow", he murmured, annoyed. Natasha laughed.

"I'd rather you didn't trust the forecast", she teased, "It just seems like eighty"

Clint scowled.

"For me, it's minus one hundred already" he muttered.

Natasha thought better of taking off her coat since it was cold in the house too. The fireplace barely helped. She sat beside Clint, brought her knees to her chest and hugged them tightly. Clint was carefully watching her; Widow kept glancing at her watch worriedly.

"You're nervous, Nat", he told her. Romanov tensed. Years of practice enabled her to perfectly hide her feelings and emotions from others but Clint knew her all too well. She scoffed.

"I'm fine"

"You aren't. I can sense-"

"The only thing you can sense, Barton, is an amount of alcohol in my kitchen. And don't even try to approach the cupboard, otherwise, I'll skin you alive, throw away your guts and crawl inside of you to keep warm", Natasha glared at him.

Clint burst into laughter.

"You know", he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, "I know nice ways of keeping warm with me inside of y-"

"Of course you do", Natasha snorted, shaking off his hand, "But another time. Now shut up and go back to your damn 'reading'"

"Relax, Nat"

She threw her arms in the air and jumped up.

"I can't, you moron! Don't you understand? As soon as S.H.I.E.L.D. allows us to go on holiday together and have a rest from all this fighting shit, our dear Fury informs us that he knows the location of my house and he's bringing a murderer to this very house, together with another one powerful bitch from their bloody Asgard! Do you expect me to relax? Especially when this murderer turns out to be the damn God of Mischief who's brainwashed you recently, killed and threatened more than one hundred people and nearly destroyed the whole city!"

"Look, I don't like it either. Hell, I don't like it at all. But if we don't handle this, then who's supposed to take care of it? Right, nobody"

"They've got a whole bunch of agents who sit idle all day long"

"We're the best, Nat"

"But they cannot rely on us forever! We're not damn supermen!"

Clint put away his newspapers and embraced her. She grit her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, trying hard not to burst into tears. She was Black Widow, for god's sake.

"Imagine it's just another one mission" Clint whispered in her ear, playing with her red locks. Natasha smelled like frost and pines and he tastes vodka as soon as he pressed his mouth to her full pink lips.

Hell, it turned out to be a really nice way of keeping warm.

Natasha pulled away first, "Right. Thanks. I guess I was just annoyed because of all this shit"

Clint tilted his head to the side, "Maybe you're just in love, huh?"

Natasha rolled her eyes and glared at him.

"Shut up. They'll be here soon"

They went outside and immediately regretted that. The weather was refusing to improve. Clint silently followed Natasha to the front gates, where they stood side by side, cautiously scanning the area. Minutes passed in silence. It wasn't long before Clint's teeth began clattering, so he bit his lip in attempt to stop it. Beside him Natasha was shivering.

"Shit", she said, "It's getting colder"

"Tttoldd yyou iit'sss ggonna bbe mminnusss one hhundrrredd", Clint managed to say.

"Shut up, Barton and don't be so pessimistic", Natasha said, pacing back and forth to keep warm.

"I'm... I'mm ffuckinn ffrreezinn inn yyour ffuckinn ccountrry"

"Welcome to Russia, dummy", Romanov said darkly. She was jumping now.

"It'ss... It'ss a ffuckinn coldd ass, nnott Rrussia"

"Clint, watch your tongue", Natasha barked, running and jumping around Clint.

"A ffuckinn coldd ass!"

"Barton, have you forgotten all your Geography classes? It's Russia!" Widow shouted, circling Clint for the tenth time.

"Ccall itt wwhatteverrr yyyou wanntt bbutt it'sss ssstilll a ffuckinn coldd ass!"

Natasha got tired of running. Besides, Clint's silly rambling annoyed her pretty much. So she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the lips, thus knocking him down. Entangled, they rolled to the side and bumped into the gates. Natasha yelped and sat up, rubbing her bruised shoulder. Clint realized he was getting cold again, so he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her closer to himself.

Their make-out session was interrupting by car signaling. The assassins hastily stood up, both flushed from the cold and recent kissing.

Nick Fury was glaring daggers at them.


	3. Chapter 3: Pancakes

**REWRITTEN!**

**Chapter 3: Pancakes **

"So... Do you like it?" Natasha wondered, pouring tea in the cup. Opposite her, Asgardian Goddess of War was chewing the tenth pancake. She'd eaten the other nine in an instant. How did she manage not to get fat? Natasha was so jealous that she was almost howling like a wolf.

"They're very delicious, thank you. What are they called?"

"Pancakes", Natasha almost spat the word with utter disgust, "Fatty, oily pancakes"

Sif grabbed her plate as if she intended to throw it on the floor but thought better of it. She folded her hands, looked at Natasha and asked in a quiet polite voice:

"Can I have more, please?"

Natasha turned to the oven so that Lady Bottomless Stomach Sif couldn't contemplate her facial expression. Widow glared at the pan with damn pancakes instead.

Clint almost laughed at the situation. Hawkeye had tiptoed to the kitchen a few minutes earlier in order to get a strong drink. Low temperatures, Fury's lecture and two Asgardian Gods in one house at a time had done their job. He was already fed up with their new so-called 'mission'. At the moment he was lurking in the corner, waiting for Natasha and Sif to leave. However, it seemed like his ingenious plan wouldn't work since their new guest kept eating, eating and eating. Weren't they fed in their bloody Asgard?

* * *

_"Agent Barton. Agent Romanoff" Fury said in a stern voice._

_"Sir" they both blurted out at the same time and immediately lowered their heads like children who were caught red-handed. Actually, if they were told to take off their gloves... It was so damn cold outside, after all. _

_"Let me introduce you to Lady Sif, Asgardian Goddess of War"_

_They both looked up, however, Clint raised his head first and Natasha was going to kill him for that because the said Goddess turned out to be very good looking. The three of them bowed their heads._

_"She'll be staying with you so that she'll be able to offer help-" Fury glanced at Loki, who was still in the car, ignoring them all, "-in case something goes wrong. Although this is unlikely to happen"_

_"I'd like to believe that", Natasha muttered, "Anyway, how long is he going to occupy my house?"_

_"For a month or so. It depends on Thor. As soon as he arrives here, they'll depart to Asgard" _

_"And where's Thor now?" Clint asked. Fortunately, he managed to prevent his teeth from clattering._

_"He's in New Mexico at the moment. Helping Dr. Foster to carry out several experiments", Fury added. _

_Clint's sharp eye caught a glimpse of sadness in Lady Sif's beautiful eyes. He decided that it didn't suit her when Natasha elbowed him. _

_"Right. Any questions?" Fury asked._

_"None, sir", Natasha said, glaring at Clint. He was avoiding her eyes. Fury studied the couple for a moment then barked an order: _

_"With me. Both of 're going to have a serious conversation about your manners" _

* * *

That serious conversation took place only two hours ago.

"What do you usually eat in Asgard?" Natasha found herself asking, "I didn't have a chance to ask Thor about it"

"Mostly fruit, meat, cheese, bread and wine" Sif said, leaning over the dining table to grab another pancake. The thirteenth one.

"Nice", Widow commented, suddenly at a loss for words.

"Do you have wine here?"

"Wine? Of course. Would you like some?"

Sif nodded, flashing her a brief smile. Natasha abandoned her cup of now cold tea and headed to the cupboard. She reached for the bottle then stopped. Something was wrong. Romanov lowered her hand and looked around, narrowing her eyes and grabbing her gun. Sif, who'd been watching her every move from her seat, tilted her head.

"Is something wrong?"

Natasha put her index finger to her lips, drawing the gun. Another person was in the kitchen, she was absolutely sure of it. Was it some bastard from S.H.I.E.L.D. whom Fury had secretly brought here? Oh, she would be so glad to kill him. Or had Loki escaped? Natasha tensed and stretched out her hand with the gun. She pointed the pistol at the farthest corner and carefully approached it. The assassin didn't hear Sif stand up so she nearly jumped when she realized the Goddess had been behind her for a while. Widow stepped forward and-

"FUCK YOU CLINT BARTON!"

-And everything mixed up in the house of Oblonskys.

Natasha screamed and pulled the trigger. The shot shook the house and Clint fled from his hiding place. Sif jumped back, bumping into the cupboard. A few bottles fell to the floor and shattered to pieces. Shots and curses were heard. Natasha was chasing Clint around the table, shooting at him from time to time. Hawkeye ducked and hid under the table, while Natasha was turning chairs and tables in order to get him. The archer was crawling towards the door when Natasha grabbed his collar and pressed the pistol to his forehead.

"YOU ARE A DEAD MAN CLINT BARTON!"

"Nat, sorry, Nat, please, calm down, look, Nat, I'm awfully sorry, Nat! Nat, calm down, for god's sake! I'll never do that again I promise, Nat! NAAAT!"

Frustrated, Natasha threw her gun away and pulled at his hair.

"Do that again, moron and I'll skin you alive! Didn't I tell to to keep away from my alcohol?"

"Yes, Nat, you did and I'm so very, very sorry- ahhh leave my hair alone! - and I promise, Nat, no, I swear that I'll never do that again!"

Natasha Romanoff let go of him.

"Idiot", she mumbled, sighing, "You scared me to death. I could've shot you!"

"Nat, forgive me-"

"Next time I won't miss, you moron!"

The rest of the day the trio spent cleaning up the damaged kitchen.


	4. Chapter 4: Sheds

**A/N: I know, I know. Haven't seen you for about a month, so hello;) It took me long to write the chapter. Finally, some Loki/Sif interactions here... Enjoy;)**

* * *

Chapter 4: Sheds

Clint and Natasha are still recovering from the conversation they've had with Sif. It hasn't helped the couple to sort things out; the two keep getting on each others' nerves. They spend hours trying to find out which country has won the Second World War. They search the Net (and Barton doesn't hesitate to curse the awful Siberian Wi-Fi), read books which are available in Romanov's house, ask the Asgardians for advice (Sif has threatened Nat that she'll have a good chance to be involved in the Third World War taking place at her own country house if the Widow doesn't shut up). Hawkeye even has made a decision to contact KGB or CIA in order to get access to secret documents as Nick Fury has refused to give them any information about the past cases.

Sif has been left to herself for a while. Gracefully walking around the small and accurate Romanov's garden, she attempts to prevent herself from shooting hungry glances towards the cozy wooden building, which is, no doubt, her beloved Midgardian kitchen.

Thor has told her stories about his hard times with food during his banishment in New Mexico. Sif has barely believed in his eating seven (if not more) times a day and his mortal friends sneaking around that damn Jane's lab (or whatever they call it) hungry and angry because of their unexpected guest.

Fighting the urge to run to the kitchen at the highest speed of hers, Sif admits that Thor has been right about that.

She is so deep in thought imagining the tasty golden pancakes with raspberry jam smelling just marvelous that she fails to notice the brown metallic door badly hitting her nose. Snoring in annoyance and displeasure, the famous Goddess of War rubs her now aching nose with her palm, mentally cursing herself. Sif briefly glances at the offensive door to indicate that it is the entrance to the gray Romanov's shed at the back of the garden. She's been here only once or twice and can recall the broken spades, dusty guns, ancient chairs, tables, dirty books and other useless things Romanov's family has been putting here for ages. Since kitchen has been the only place occupying her mind she's never really been interested in visiting the shed.

And by the way, it is Loki's shed.

Not really the one which belongs to him but the one he is kept in. Nick Fury has worried that the shed should be completely rearranged in order to handle the God of Mischief. No doubt, Loki will use every opportunity to escape and to do whatever he has in his mind. And he always has something in mind.

Sif remembers Natasha bursting into sincere laughter at that Fury's statement. The Widow has patted his shoulder playfully, persuading him that even the well-known God of Mischief will fail getting himself out of his new so-called 'prison'. Why? Because it is a _Russian _shed and only _Russian _person can find the way out of it using _Russian _skills. To be honest, neither Nick, nor Sif has gotten the point of it, to say nothing of poor confused Clint.

Surprisingly, Natasha's unique _Russian _methods of keeping prisoners safely locked are proving themselves. At least they have been so far.

"Dare to accompany me, _Lady_?"

Sif nearly jumps when his silky threatening voice fill her ears in order to strike her deep in the heart just like a snake would crawl into poor rabbit's hole.

Mentally cursing herself for being and acting stupid – actually, hunger has succeeded in driving her crazy – Sif straightens, narrows her eyes and speaks with him in a cold indifferent voice.

"I wish I could but I'm afraid I can't" she says, turning on her heel and ready for immediate departure to the kitchen.

"Don't do that or the red-haired will loose her temper and cut your stomach in pieces to get that bloody pancakes out of it"

Sif feels the anger boiling inside her. Fortunately, it isn't long before she realizes Loki is just succeeding getting on her nerves. He is acquainted with her complicated nature and is aware how to make Sif furious.

Sif crosses her arms in confusion. Certainly, Loki has been around her and Thor's company for years, decades and ages if not more. He's always been shy and quiet, moving around like a shadow or silently sitting in the corner afraid of being noticed. Despite his harmless tricky schemes hasn't caused much trouble and attention – just unlike Thor. Loki has been watching them carefully, considering something and nobody has never dared to find out what.

_And look where it's gotten us_, Sif thought humorlessly.

The result of his behavior is that now he knows you even better than himself and uses it against you.

_Or the whole Midgard_, she winced.

Seriously, what else has he been doing in Heimdall-knows-where after falling from the bridge to the – again – Heimdall-knows-where? Studying the mortal world, the habits of people, their good and bad sides so that he will make up his mind with a brilliant plan of attack.

_Probably he hasn't given due consideration to that brave assemble_

"Deep in thought?"

Sif can swear he is smiling behind that damn door.

"Out of your business"

"How's Thor doing?" Loki seems to ignore her answer.

Sif scowls. Yes, indeed. He knows.

"I have no idea. He is not here"

"Oh, really?" he sounds innocently surprised "I supposed you two were having such a good time together that neither you nor he visited me these days"

Sif fights the urge to break the metal door and his neck right now.

"Even without Thor I don't feel like having you for company, you know"

Sif smiles, pleased with himself. She is good at fighting, just like Thor. But when it comes to hurting others with sharp words… No, she has never been an expert in it.

Loki keeps silent for a while. Offended? Unlikely.

Soon he comes up with the answer.

"How impole of you, _Lady_. You prefer messing around a couple of silly mortals in love rather than have talk to the poor old _friend_ of yours"

"This poor old 'friend' of mine should learn his lessons first"

Loki is again quiet. Sif patiently waits, finding herself smiling at the situation. The God of Mischief struggles to confront her, for the first time.

Not receiving her answer, she gets curious. Has she truly _hurt _his feelings?

"Sif" he finally says in a small voice.

"What?"

"What am I to do after Thor arrives? I'm sure my so-called father has shared his future plans with you"

Sif stares at the door in confused.

"No" she carefully responds "He hasn't"

And does it really matter to her? Whatever Odin has made up his wise mind with Loki definitely deserves it.

"Sif"

She gasps at the completely unfamiliar sound of his voice. It is almost pleading.

"Free me"

Now it's her time to shut up and keep silent.

"Free me now. The Widow and Barton are pretty occupied now, I believe. They will never notice. _Please_, Sif. You won't regret it. I'll disappear from your life, from their lives and I swear I'll never do harm to any of the realms"

She freezes.

* * *

**A/N: Some spoilers - Natasha will be speaking Russian in next chapters. **


	5. Chapter 5: Walks

**A/N: **_It isn't a month yet and I'm here sooner than I expected with a new and LONGER chapter. Just as I've promised, Natasha is speaking Russian. Translation provided, don't worry. Great thanks to reviewers. I'm actually surprised that you're still reading this. _

_Well, enjoy. And forgive me for mistakes if you find any (by the way, I'd love a beta;)_

* * *

Chapter 5: Walks

"…I told you that was Stalin!"

"Woman, don't you dare fill my head with the brilliant ideas of your stupid Russian communism"

"I still insist on my point of view and I don't care whether you like it or not"

Clint Barton feels like his head and its contents are going to explode. They've managed to turn Romanov's house upside down. Bookshelves and archives are completely empty. Reference books, albums, documents and other papers are covering the wooden floor like autumn leaves. All electronic devices are desperately trying to find _anything _resembling Wi-Fi.

Luckily, Sif's been lost somewhere outside in the garden so she is unable to see all the mess.

Natalia Romanova grimaces.

"_Черт __побери_"

"Sorry?"

Natasha glares angrily at Clint, trying to push her way through the piles of paper to the door.

"Learn Russian"

"Hey, if ya go on sayin' the words I dunno I gonna bring an interpreter here"

One of the encyclopedias cracks under Romanov's foot.

"What the hell was _that_?!"

Barton exposes his perfectly white teeth.

"Or shall I speak Dutch? German? Like I did in Budapest, huh?"

"No, thank you" The Widow slightly rolls her eyes, bending down to release the poor book from beneath her boot.

"Aye, atta girl"

"Stop that!" she snaps furiously, throwing the book on the sofa.

"What?" he raises his eyebrow.

The Black Widow sighs.

"_Боже __мой_. Let's just abandon it and tidy up a bit"

"So, Nat, I take it as you're giving in"

The red-haired scowls.

"I didn't say that, you idiot. I'm just being sensible"

"Well, then. I guess we'll discuss it another day?"

They start picking up the papers in unison and placing them carefully back on the shelves and tables. Silence falls. A bit angry and worn out, they don't feel like talking.

_There are definitely other pleasant things to do in this wild forest, _Hawkeye thinks, smirking to himself. He watches Natasha carefully from the corner of his eye. Brows furrowed and eyes concerned, she is rearranging the piles with such seriousness like these papers are part of an important mission.

The atmosphere in the room becomes more and more relaxed. Light pages are swiftly shivering, agents' gently footsteps mirroring them. The light wind from the open window brings the sweet aroma of roses from the garden.

_Maybe, it's not a bad idea,_ Clint considers.

And suddenly here comes a desperate scream from the garden.

* * *

Wrapped in a thick blanket and turning her elegant nose away from the plate with the fresh portion of her favorite pancakes, Sif appears to be in a very bad mood. She is staring at the wall, not really seeing it and not noticing that her pale hands are nearly tearing the blanket to pieces.

Sitting in comfortable armchairs and leaning forward, both assassins search her face for any signs which can give them the clue of what has happened. But how can you find out what is on the mind of a_ Goddess_?

* * *

_Already drawing their guns, Natasha and Clint storm out of the house, some flying pages following them to the garden. Getting closer to the shed, _Loki's _shed, they become more and more suspicious._

_Spotting only Sif and no Loki around, they stop and sigh with relief. Gladly, he hasn't escaped. _

_Approaching Sif, they start to panic. The Asgardian Warrior is slowly moving away from the shed, her slender frame shaking with unmistaken fury and her beautiful eyes burning with hatred. One hand tightly gripping the weapon hidden under her Midgardian coat and another one pointing directly at the door, she is yelling at the top of her breaking voice. Neither Barton, nor Romanov has any idea of what she is talking about. While working for CIA, KGB and SHIELD they've been forced to master several foreign languages and dialects but they've never come across this one before. The words seem ancient, so ancient that they make the agents shiver a bit._

_Sif is unlikely to pull herself together without help. However, the couple resists coming closer that they are to her. The Goddess is radiating anger around herself and they don't look forward to learn what she is capable of when she is really angry._

_After a while her voice finally cracks and she starts whimpering. From their position they can see her tears of anger, hurt and hate streaming down her now scarlet face. Sif freezes, still eyeing the shed angrily and no doubt, still mentally curing it._

_"Take care of her" Clint whispers, barely moving his tight lips "I'll go and check that bastard"_

_The Hawkeye takes off running towards the small grey building whereas The Widow comes up to the disappointed Warrior, putting on the most comforting smile she can. Sif stares at her in shock and Natasha pauses for a moment, wondering if the Asgardian can recognize her. _

_"It's all right" Nat smiles._

_Sif swallows._

_"If you only knew"_

* * *

"Sif"

She lifts her head to stare blankly at their worried faces and quietly whispers, "Nothing really dangerous for you happened there. Loki failed to talk me into letting him out, although he eagerly tried to. When I refused he…well…"

Sif tilts her head as if deciding what to say next.

"Well?" Barton says, encouraging her to continue.

She sighs loudly.

"Well, he started telling me his _very _rude opinions of me, you, mortals in general. He also mentioned a number of filthy things about my brother and Thor, thus fuelling my anger. And you two found me just in time to watch the performance"

The tension between them eases. Clint snorts.

"This is bad" he says "Very bad"

"Seriously, Clint, what else would you expect from someone like him?" Nat asks him.

"Natasha" he silences her firmly "You have no idea how persuasive he can be. If he keeps going on like this, he'll finally get what he wants from us sooner or later. It's just a matter of time"

The Widow bites her lip in defeat. Definitely, he is right about it.

"So what are we to do?"

He stands up, stretching.

"I'm going to call Fury. He needs to know. And then we'll make a decision"

He nods at the red-haired agent and tosses the plate with pancakes towards Sif.

"Help yourself. It's gonna be okay"

"Thank you" she offers him a weak smile.

The Hawkeye grabs his mobile phone and excuses himself, exiting the living room in a rather clumsy way. For a few moments he is silent in the hall, waiting for the response.

It occurs to Natasha that the director must me sleeping now due to the time difference between the States and Russia.

Clint realizes it just a bit later.

"Damn! Stupid communistic forest!" Barton pokes his head back in the room to address Romanov his complaints.

"Something wrong, 007?" She teases, blinking innocently and burying her laughter deep inside her throat.

"Yes! Indeed! Everything is wrong! Your bloody…"

Before they have a chance to restart their previous argument, Sif clears her throat.

"Sir Clint" she says dryly "I believe we've already discussed the matter of the Second World War. I suppose Natalia won't be in favor of the Third one right here and now"

The Goddess of War tightens her grip on the silver fork and puts the piece of pancake in her mouth like nothing really happened. Several quiet moments follow as the agents keep looking at her. Eyes fixed on the plate, Sif completes her task in eating six pancakes within mere seconds. When she raises her head she's welcomed by sincere grins on the faces of her new mortal friends.

"I knew food would help you" Natasha's eyes are sparkling.

"You're just like Thor, really" Clint laughs. When two pairs of silver eyes give him a questioning look he explains "Well, some months ago I was accompanying Selvig and Foster in New Mexico, you know, like getting all their scientific stuff back to their laboratory. Jane said there was only one way to raise Asgardian spirits. As you ladies might've guessed, it's food"

Clint chuckles. Once again Natasha notices that strange look briefly crossing the face of the Warrior. Furthermore, Sif's smile fades a bit and she lowers her gaze to the empty plate. This time she doesn't seem very happy.

A number of curious thoughts attack Nat's mind so she quickly dismisses Barton who quickly gets annoyed because of her actions. He hurriedly leaves to the garden, hopeful to discover a better spot for transmission in the "damn Russian woods". Natasha mentally wishes him good luck, being sure that it'll take him plenty of time.

The assassin smiles at Sif.

"Would you mind clearing our heads a bit? The night is wonderful"

* * *

Saying that nights are enjoyable at Romanov's is saying nothing at all.

In the very wild and remote part of Northern Siberia stands a tiny wooden house, situated at the top of green hill which is surrounded by thick pine forest. A long river runs by the foot of the hill. The river's banks, made by clear water, are covered with a mixture of sand, stones and mud and are pretty good for extreme sports like sunbathing with snakes, swimming in extremely cold water or just simple bungee jumping.

The darkness tightly wraps itself around the hill, leaving no vacant places for the remains of twilight. Exciting, almost magical silence falls. It is only disturbed only by the smooth cool breeze from the river and rare animal's sounds from the forest.

Shivering, Natasha Romanov glances at her watch. It's almost 1 am.

She and Sif have been lazily strolling around the hill for hours. They haven't talked much and the lack of conversation still doesn't bother them. Natalia admits that her fellow Warrior is benefitting from their midnight walk. The features of her faces relax and she curiously looks around, getting acquainted with her new surroundings.

Both women are slowly approaching the water. Sif quickens her pace to come closer to the river, Natasha following behind, intrigued. The Goddess bends to gracefully run her long pale fingers along the surface of the water. Natasha carefully sits on the grass beside her, watching the Asgardian hands creating a number of circles. It isn't long before Sif puts her wet hand away and attentively listens to the soothing splashes.

"It'a a beautiful realm" Sif suddenly confesses "And better than I used to think"

Natasha smirks, "I'm glad you like it here"

Seeing a thoughtful look in her silver eyes, Natalia wonders what is on her mind. Before Sif has an opportunity to reply, they hear Clint Barton making his way through the bushes to the river. He's likely to bring some important news and Natasha gets anxious.

"I've contacted SHIELD" Hawkeye says "Fury isn't very delighted about the situation. He is concerned about Loki's next actions so he's sending reinforcements soon"

"Reinforcements?" Natasha gasps. Her heart sinks deep inside her stomach.

She has been frightened of having this house discovered for a long time. Luckily, she's managed to keep the secret location to herself for about five years. It's the only place on the Earth where she can lead a calm way of life without being bothered by SHIELD, CIA and KGB with all their missions. No doubt, Nick has been aware of her going on holiday to somewhere in Russia and has been eager to locate it.

She's already had to reveal some of the coordinates to the Director so that he could bring Loki and Sif here. Now, the idea of numerous battalions occupying this area like a military camp has scared her to death.

Noticing the change in her, Clint puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Don't worry. Only Cap and Stark are staying here until Thor catches up"

Natasha grimaces. Steve Rogers isn't that bad and it's possible to handle him here, she thinks. But Stark… For a second she wonders whether having Iron Man at place is better than the army.

"All right" she sighs.

* * *

**A/N:** _Here comes the translation_

_"Черт побери" means "Damn it"_

_"Боже мой" means "Oh my God" (Ms Johansson spoke this in the very beginnin of the Avengers - at the railway station after Coulson had ordered her to get Hulk)_

_Leave a review? _


	6. Chapter 6: Visits

**A/N: Dear Lord. I can't believe I've actually updated this. **

**Great thanks to IAmSherLocked and HanVanHelsing for the awesome feedback. I'm glad you've forced my lazy ass to finally write something. **

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Chapter 6: Visits

_Midgardians are boring, _Sif muses, breathing in fresh air.

Her evening walks have become a routine and it seems like everyone has grown accustomed to her slipping out of the house at midnight. She doesn't go too far away, she simply wanders around the river bank or circles the house until she feels dizzy.

She has to admit, she likes the nights here. However, she still feels uncomfortable every time Steve Rogers pops up out of nowhere with his polite lovely smile and gentlemanly quiet voice. They talk a lot… No, _Steve _talks a lot and when he notices her glanceing at the house and suppressing yawns, he changes the topic. Rogers talks about the Second World War and he's lucky to get her interested. Unlike Natasha or Clint, who keep arguing about the outcome of it, this Super soldier has been there and he knows what he's talking about. Soon Sif discovers than she isn't that bored in his company any longer, so they enthusiastically discuss the strategies and stuff. Clint and Natasha sometimes engage in the conversation, which leads to their usual bickering and Barton's accusations of Natasha supporting communists but before the Black Widow has a chance to open her mouth so that she can say something very Russian and very unpleasant to him, Tony Stark makes an appearance and the bomb goes off.

Sif usually purses her lips in a slight annoyance, digging her nails in the palms so that she cannot reach her sword and execute them all, burn the bodies and dance around the fire.

But she never draws her sword and never finishes them off because she really enjoys their company, like she's enjoyed the company of Warriors Three in Asgard.

Tonight the Black Widow, Hawkeye and the Man of Iron are practicing their cooking skills in a hopeless attempt to make something resembling a soup while being drunk. Natasha, her voice too slurred and her accent too Russian, tries to explain Clint the recipe of borsch, her favorite beetroot soup which has a frightening scarlet color. It seems like she's missed some details or told everything in the wrong order because the kitchen explodes. The walls, cupboards and the Avengers trio are covered in vegetables and red broth which looks like blood. It isn't long before they all burst into laughter and Tony opens another bottle of vodka.

Sif rolls her eyes and escapes to the garden. The cool wind clears her head – she's drunk too but what can a few bottles of Midgardian drink do to her?

She walks and walks, then stops dead in her tracks because she spots the _shed _in front of her. Again. Hasn't she done her best to avoid it after the incident? Sif is sure she has. So what's she doing here? _Again?_

She stands still, tilts her head and carefully considers her next action. Regretfully, her thoughts are in a mess due to the Russian vodka and she doesn't notice – or pretends that she doesn't notice – the screaming recklessness of her movement her hand makes.

The hand hovers above the handle and Sif spots something tiny and silver near the door handle. It looks like one of Tony's 'toys' and she studies it curiously.

_Good evening, Ms. Sif._

Sif is startled but she doesn't jump at the unexpected voice. She's the Lady Sif, among other things. The said warrior turns around, her not-so-very-sharp-after-the-vodka eyes trying to register the owner of the voice. She finds none and blames it on the alcohol.

_What can I do for you, Ms. Sif? _

Sif's eyebrows furrow and she blinks twice, confused. Her hand goes to her sword, her shaking fingers gripping the handle. She attempts to draw it, to see the familiar blade shining beautifully in the moonlight, the soft gleam assuring her that she's safe…

Hell, there's no moon tonight. And the sword suddenly feels very heavy.

_I wouldn't do that, Ms. Sif. Your surroundings are perfectly safe and I haven't registered any potential enemies. There's only one and he's in the shed, secured. _

"What are you?" Sif manages to say.

_I am JARVIS. It is a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Sif._

The Warrior realizes that the voice belongs to that tiny silver device. The thing starts talking enthusiastically about its wonderful abilities and its creator, Tony Stark the Great and it's a pleasure to serve him and his lovely friends, blah-blah-blah…

"SHUT UP!" Sif yells. JARVIS, whatever it is, falls silent obediently.

She tries to focus and she can't and she's frustrated and angry at herself and at her drunken condition. In addition to that, the awfully polite voice of that silver bullshit drives her crazy.

There's a pregnant pause and then JARVIS speaks.

_I understand the reasons for your anger at me. I assure you, Ms. Sif, I won't do any harm to you. It isn't in my programming. _

Sif gets the idea and leaves her sword in peace.

_What can I do for you, Ms. Sif?_

She gapes. Really, what? She doesn't know. She doesn't know why she's here in the first place.

"Can I… come in?" she wonders and it sounds weak and she hates herself for it.

JARVIS takes his time to think it over.

_I am afraid it is impossible, Ms. Sif. According to my programming, I must not allow-_

Her palm is aching and bleeding after she's slammed him. Hard. There's a flash and a terrible noise of breaking glass. Only a messy bunch of wires is left of him and they're jerking violently like beheaded snakes. There's a storm, angrily growling in her stomach and she wants to vomit.

The door cracks and slowly opens. Pressing her injured palm to her chest, Sif steps into the darkness. At first she sees nothing and outstretches her slightly shaking hands in front of her. Her eyes refuse to adjust to the darkness.

"Oh no, not you again"

This time she jumps. After several blinks Sif spots him in the corner. He's sitting at the table, his hands on his lap. His eyes are closed and he appears to be tired and bored… or at least pretending to be tired an bored.

She doesn't know what to say, she doesn't know what is she doing here and she doesn't know what to think – maybe she shouldn't have drunk so much. And why on Earth does the _Midgardian _alcohol have such a strong effect on her?

She observes the shed. There are bookshelves with old dusty novels, lots of boxes and chairs. There are some books on the wooden table in front of him – has he been reading?

"What brought you here?" he wonders, his cold indifferent and _bored _voice snapping her out of her thoughts.

She shrugs, "I do not know"

He opens his eyes and observes her curiously.

"Oh, I see. You're just drunk" and he turns away, closing his eyes. Has he sounded disappointed?

"I'm not!" she snarls angrily.

"Whatever" he says, "So, what have I done to have you here? Does Odin want me back or have I missed something very interesting?"

"Nothing. I came on my own accord"

He looks at her again.

"You're drunk, Lady Sif. I'd rather you returned to your quarters before I happen to say something you'll find _extremely _insulting and run away screaming blue murder"

Sif narrows her eyes.

"Fine" she says, "I'm leaving"

She doesn't make it to the door because. Having called her name to draw her attention, he lowers his eyes, obviously uncomfortable, struggling to say something.

"I'd love... some company"

* * *

**A/N: Some of JARVIS's lines are borrowed from David (_Prometheus, _2012). I thought they would fit. And I love robots. **

**Next chapter - Tony Stark the Great **


	7. AUTHOR'S NOTE

**A/N:** Hello everybody. Thanks for awesome feedback, you guys have forced my super lazy ass to do something about the story. At some point it struck me that my fic was too short, shallow and boring. So I decided to rewrite it. The first three chapters are already replaced with the new ones. Trust me, they are much better, so hurry up and read them. They are extended, so very extended. I'm working on others at the moment. I won't abandon the fic.

Love you all


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